#damiette

***

/Two months, seventeen days and nine hours earlier/

With every day passing, the weather in Paris got colder. The Ladybug suit provided enough warmth even on the most algid nights but walking to school in the mornings or going home in the afternoons was getting more and more difficult for Marinette. She really didn’t understand why out of all things a ladybug could do, the only thing she got was the urge to hibernate. She didn’t have wings. No antennas. No four extra legs. Even Tikki wasn’t anywhere near similar to a ladybug. Basically, other than her name and the colors, Marinette was just as far from resembling a ladybug as one could be.

But no, she had to get ill and tired every time the weather was cool. Fantastic.

“Ladybug?”

Chat’s voice brought her back to reality. She was sitting on the roof of Adrien’s house, at one in the morning, with the stars shining at them brightly from the sky’s soft black. The stars always calmed Marinette. They reminded her that there was a whole universe out there, that she was small and didn’t matter compared to the real world. These kinds of thoughts usually terrified people, but not her. If nothing really matters then the best you can do is making sure you’re happy, right?

She turned towards her partner’s shadowy figure standing on the other side of the roof.

“Hi,” she started with a barely visible smile. “Is everything okay? You weren’t there yesterday when Glassterix attacked and it’s okay, but you missed school too and we were getting a little worried.” Well, it wasn’t entirely ‘okay’. It took her over two hours to defeat the Akuma and her Lucky Cure had to bring back twenty-three people from the dead, but she wasn’t mad at him. It wasn’t the first time one of them couldn’t show up, they learned to be patient with each other a long time ago. After all, they were best friends, especially since they knew each other’s identity.

About that: yeah, it was a wild ride. It happened the month before, and it still caused her nightmares sometimes. The way Ryuko was crying as a group of civilians fell from the Eiffel tower right before her eyes (she couldn’t save them) and Carapace’s screams when the Champs Elysées’ asphalt shattered into pieces sending flying cars all over the place was haunting her every time she closed her eyes. At some point, Rena Rouge’s costume was splattered with someone else’s blood and she freaked out so bad, she took a wrong step off the roof, dislocated her ankle and fell five stories before Ladybug could catch her. Marinette swore she was never going to ask for the other heroes’ help again unless it was absolutely necessary. When Chat’s ring started ticking in the middle of the fight and she saw the fear creeping to his face, making all his anger disappear, she grabbed his arm and took him to a relatively safe alley. For a moment, the green light made the shadows look like long, faceless opponents, but is passed just as fast as it came and Adrien was left standing there, panicking. Marinette wasn’t too surprised, she’s suspected it for a while and judging from Adrien’s face after she transformed back to her plain old self, he did too. She succeeded in calming him down enough so his breathing was mostly even and she told him to get Plagg something to eat (that seemed to clear his mind a little), but then she had to go back to fight. Half an hour later Chat was once again helping Viperion evacuate the civilians.

She stood up and took a step towards Chat Noir, who for some reason seemed to stop far away from her.

“There’s something I have to talk to you about,” he said, and Marinette once again felt the smell of inevitable doom lingering around them, but she stayed calm.

“Okay,” she told him carefully.

He stepped out of the shadows and now she could see he wasn’t wearing his costume. She felt a little panic in her throat, but he seemed fine, just… hesitant, maybe.

“I was thinking about… everything, really, and the thing is, I want to go to college. I would like to go to Cambridge, or maybe Yale, I haven’t actually decided yet, but the point is, that wherever I go, it won’t be in Paris. It won’t be in France.”

Marinette’s heart sunk and for the first time in months, her eyes started stinging a little. She hated to cry, but she didn’t want him to leave. All year, she kept telling herself that they were just in eleventh grade, that college was far, but she knew it wasn’t entirely true. Almost everyone in her class has already decided where they were going to go. The United Kingdom? America? No, these places were too far, too big, too scary to think about. Why would he want to go there?

“I know it sounds a bit overconfident, but I think I can make it. However, I’ve to learn. A lot. And I’ve to make sure I do enough work outside of school that I can put in my applications and I have to do a lot of things, I still don’t exactly know everything about it but the point is…” he stopped speaking and took a few steps towards her, so now the distance between them was normal but he was still avoiding her gaze.

“The point is,” he continued cautiously, “-that I thought long and hard about it, and I can’t be Chat Noir anymore.” He looked her in the eyes for a moment, but seeing her expression, he turned his gaze to the ground.

For a second that seemed like a lifetime, Marinette was just staring at him. She thought it was a joke, or a dream, or a fucked-up prank because it couldn’t have been real. It wasn’t possible, right?

Then she slowly opened her mouth to protest, to do anything, but Adrien was quicker.

“And it isn’t just that. I mean, the college.” He shook his head and sighed, annoyed at himself. In different circumstances, it would’ve been satisfying to see him not finding the right words for once. “It isn’t just about college. Marinette, I would like to live an actual life. It’s selfish, I know, but if I don’t quit now, I’m never going to be able to. I won’t be able to have a family, a job I like, I’m never going to have a dog because there’s always going to be something that keeps me from being home. I love being Chat Noir, but during the past two years, I learned, that the main reason that I like it is that it helps people. But it’s not the life I want to live in. I’m going to find another way to help, one that lets me be happy.”

It was a promise, and they both knew it. 'I’m going to be a good person. I’m going to help. I’m going to be happy. I promise.’

Marinette saw the world shatter all around them as he spoke. Her world. She knew that at the same time, he saw it grow and evolve, and the irony didn’t go over her head.

“I’m not going to leave you alone,” he told her, looking into her eyes. “In fact, I’m happy to help you or Ladybug anytime you want, but only as Adrien.” He grabbed her hand softly and dropped the Black Cat ring into her palm. “I’m sorry.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving Marinette standing on his roof at one in the morning under the black blanket of the night. She wiped the tears that never fell out of her eyes and welcomed the numbness in her soul. She looked up to the sky one last time before swinging around the city until dawn. The stars no longer seemed so bright.

Later that night, wandering back and forth in his room, Adrien wondered if Marinette picked up everything he meant, but left unsaid.

'I’m going to be a good person. I’m going to help. I’m going to be happy. I’m here for you. I want you to be happy. I promise.’

He decided, that probably not.

_________________

It was too early to check on Luka and Kagami, plus they made her promise she would at least try to have a good time, and Kaalki had absolutely no interest in taking her to Paris if there wasn't a clear threat. Normally, she wouldn't have thought about going on a school trip at all. For two years, she managed to "get sick" every time there was an outing on the horizon, and she took no pleasure in going to a different continent for two months, while Paris' population was completely vulnerable to a terrorist. 

However, Gotham might've had been even more dangerous than Paris, and she couldn't let her classmates go without protection either. Not to mention how the whole trip was... kind of her fault.

In her protection, last year, when Mrs. Bustier presented the class with the opportunity, she didn't think they had any chance. So when the woman said she was going to speak to her colleagues in her favor if Marinette filled out the application and convinced the class to reach the requirements, the girl didn't think twice. They shot a cool campaign-video, got recommendations from Jagged Stone, Cheng Shifu, Nadja Chamack, Penny Rolling, Gabriel Agreste, Audrey Bourgeois, the major, the principal and even the Kitty Section for good measure, then she wrote a five pages long essay about the ways they could spend the vacation and the money that came with it. Now that Marinette was thinking about it, they might've overshot the mark a little.

Thanks to Mrs. Bustier, this way she could at least maintain her grades a bit, which came handy after the late-night patrols she was still getting used to at the time.

Giving the Miraculouses to Luka and Kagami after swearing never to use them again was hard, but necessary. As Ladybug, she fed them a story about having to go to the east for a Miraculous-mission two weeks before Marinette actually left, so she could see them in action - Hawkmoth was getting sloppy; he only sent out one akuma during that time period, and it was a pretty weak one too -, and so it wasn't that easy to connect the dots, 'cause... Ladybug and your friend, who magical camouflage or not, look pretty much alike, leave and come back at the same time. You have three guesses.

She made them promise to call her if there was any damage she had to "Cure" or if an akuma was too difficult for them to handle, and she hoped that at least Kagami, being the more responsible one, would keep that promise.

Alya's voice, still hoarse from waking up, pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Mornin'." She stopped to yawn and tried to smooth her red tornado of a hair out. "Where did you get coffee?" 

Marinette pointed at the pot on the counter. Alya shuffled towards it with closed eyes, muttering "coffee" under her breath over and over again, her hip hitting every chair on the way there. She might've cursed a few times, but it came out so tangled, Marinette wasn't sure.

Then came Nino storming down the stairs, probably waking the entire city with his steps, humming Jagged Stones' Jeudi soir. He put a hand on Alya's back, lead her to a chair, then poured her a cup of coffee and smiled at Marinette while mixing two spoons of sugar into it. She smiled back fondly. 

She wasn't sure when she and Alya stopped being best friends. Things just... changed. Marinette started growing out her hair, wearing it in a braid instead of piggy tails. Alya's usual shirts were swapped to fandom T-shirts and crop tops. Marinette's clothes got more red and black, Alya started running another website beside Ladyblog, about her everyday life and various topics from movie-critiques to the art of journalism. Marinette ran out of pink lipstick and purchased a cherry one instead. Alya went to a festival with Nino and it was the best week of her life. Marinette's crush on Adrien disappeared, while Alya's relationship with Nino got more and more serious. 

It was slow and painful at first, but she didn't realize how much changed over a few months until one day she reached for her phone to call her friend and tell her something about a commission she got, then it hit her: they were not like that anymore.

It was comforting, on some level, that she no longer had that responsibility. Or that's what she told herself.

When the rest of her class arrived, she stood up and left the cafeteria. 

***

In the morning, they went sightseeing. Not as if Gotham had a lot of sights, they might've been the only people stupid enough to go there for fun.

No, it was more like two hours of "don't go here", "don't go there",  and "please, don't go there either" as they were shown around the city by a young lady whose posture was radiating stress all the time. Marinette could understand why. Their last stop was the Wayne Tower, where they were told to pair up with each other and discover the shops, cafés, and restaurants around the square.

She locked eyes with Adrien and mouthed "cover for me". The boy nodded, then Marinette quickly turned around the corner and walked around the square a few times before finding a sympathetic café, only one street away from the tower (technically, it wasn't on the square, but close enough).

She took a seat and ordered her third cup of coffee that day (she was healthy like that), before pulling out her phone and researching Wayne Enterprises. She checked it out back home of course, but there was a lot more material there than she had time for

She was reading yet another biography on Bruce Wayne and pretending her tired eyes weren't constantly tearing up and stinging from the screen when she heard it.

"I can't believe it. Have you read this?" an old man asked his wife sitting at the table next to Marinette's.

"Please, Robert, you can't throw a tantrum every time someone gets killed in this city," the women answered flatly.

The man turned a few pages in his newspaper then pushed it under her wife's nose.

"Not just someone, Martha! A girl! A young girl! She was barely older than Katie!" That seemed to pique the woman's interest.

"A girl, ya' say?" she murmured, pulling out her glasses. "Who did it?"

"You'd think they know, right? I mean, they have a list of all the psychopaths rummaging the streets, it can't be that hard to figure out, but no-," the wife shushed him just by raising a finger.

She took a few seconds to read the article before speaking up again.

"This says it was near Crime Alley. No girl goes near that just by accident."

"She was stabbed twelve times in broad daylight! She wasn't that near Crime Alley, look-," he turned the newspaper, searching the lines then he pointed at something, "-she was found on St. Anthony Street! That's five streets over!"

The woman hummed.

"What did ya' say, how old was she?"

"Sixteen. Katie might've seen her a few times, they went to the same school."

A waitress came and interrupted them, giving them their check. Marinette, who was pretending to drink her coffee peacefully all along now turned to them just as the man opened his wallet.

"Excuse Moi? May I ask what time it is?" She asked with a thick French accent. 

The man stopped halfway in paying the waitress and glanced at his watch, giving Marinette enough time to study the wallet in his hand. It was small and black leather, probably a gift. There was a picture too, just as she expected. It showed a girl around thirteen with blond hair and bangs, smiling in her school uniform. "Katie", if she had any luck. 

"Half-past two," the man told her helpfully.

The girl thanked him with a smile, paid for her coffees, then left the shop. 

She walked around the block to get out of the old couple's sight before visiting the Gotham Gazelle's official website on her phone. The dead girl's name was Joanne, but her surname wasn't published and there was no photo of her. She was found the day before yesterday, with twelve identical knife-wounds on her body. The police said they were looking for the culprit, but they clearly didn't have much to go on, given their lack of suspects.

Marinette took out her sketchbook and started scribbling down some notes.

Joanne

16 yrs old

Lives in Gotham

Student

She paused. The uniform on Katie's picture was blue with a red tie. Gotham didn't have many schools, but they all had different uniforms. Blue and red meant Gotham Academy.

Student in Gotham Academy

A quick Facebook search later she had the girl's last name and profile picture. Bless the modern age.

If she had to be in Gotham, she might as well not die in boredom, right?

St. Anthony Street was a little over thirty minutes from the Wayne Tower. She had time.

________________

As always, coffee is my nectar and comments are my ambrosia, so penny for your thoughts!

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@northernbluetongue

Then, of course, Lila got bored of talking about her experience with planes and started throwing around phrases like 'helping defeat the Joker', 'out-riddling the Riddler' and 'knowing who Red Robin is'.

During the past two years, her lies have gotten smaller. Smarter. More innocent. They were no longer fourteen, they didn't believe anything she said, and she realized that. After Lila swore to ruin Marinette's life, Hawkmoth's attacks got stronger and Marinette got... well, older, probably. Wiser. ( Sadder. ) Sometimes she still called her out on her lies, and on a few blissful occasions, her classmates believed her. She wasn't the only one who got wiser, as it turned out. Adrien started to see the wrong in his ways not long after he told Marinette that Lila was harmless and stood up for her almost every time the Italian girl's lies got too toxic to ignore.

There was some kind of quiet compromise between her classmates. They liked Lila, even if she wasn't always "completely honest" - that was the understatement of the year -, and they all had this "proceed with care but do no harm" attitude towards the girl.

So Marinette was pretty surprised when sitting only two seats behind her, Lila once again started feeding them lies so blatant and stupid that they almost managed to make her laugh. It would've been a long and sarcastic laugh, but a laugh nevertheless.

She turned to Adrien who was looking back at her with an expression somewhere between angry and surprised. They stared at each other for a few seconds before they both started grinning uncontrollably.

Then Nino interrupted Lila by showing the group his newest playlist, and the moment was gone.

The awkward silence was threatening to drown them, but Marinette was familiar with drowning and decided she didn't like it.

"What are you pretending to read?" Adrien's ears turned red at the question but being himself, he tried to play it off cool.

" Armada  by Ernest Cline."

She raised a brow, clearly amused by that. "Since when are you into sci-fi?"

"Since it was the first thing I could grab from the bookshelf this morning," he told her with a shrug and closed the book moodily.

Marinette grimaced at him and took a small copy of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's  Sherlock Holmes out of her bag. Adrien told her to check it out a long time ago, but given her lack of free time, she's only read two stories so far.

She gave it to him without a word.

"Thanks," he said brightly, and actually started reading this time.

Marinette gave him the ghost of a smile, then pulled out her sketchbook hesitantly. She hasn't designed a decent piece of clothing in ages. One would've called it a year-long artist's block, but she preferred "idiocy". It was shorter.

She fell asleep like that, with an empty sketchbook on her lap and a pencil in her hand.

***

Their hotel was near the Gotham Academy, which was near Arkham Asylum, which sucked. Seriously, Gotham? Yeah, let's put the kids next to the murderous psychopaths.

Once they arrived, it was already well past nine PM, so they were sent to their rooms to sleep. They had three rooms for the girls, two with four beds and one with two. Luckily, Marinette managed to occupy the double-room all to herself - Mylene, Chloe, Juleka, and Alix got a room together, and Alya, Rose, Lila, and Sabrina got the other-, so it was pretty easy to sneak out after she realized there was no way for her to stay still after sleeping on the plane.

Being inside past ten o'clock felt weird. She missed the patrols and the light breeze on her face while she swang around Paris, the sensation of falling freely from hundreds of meters, the calm of the environment as she made impossible leaps and jumps in a graceful rhythm.

With no better things to do, she pulled a blanket out of the closet and climbed to the roof.

That night, the sky was more blue than black, and the stars were dull from the city's polluted air. She sat there for who-knows-how-long, wrapped in a blanket, looking upwards, listening to the unfamiliar city beneath. Then she heard quiet footsteps behind her back.

Over the years, she learned the difference between the sounds of someone walking casually and someone trying to muffle their steps, just like she usually knew what kind of shoes they wore, their gender, and approximate height too. These were the steps of a thin man, probably young in leatherette boots, trying to sneak up on her and failing miserably. She let him come close and didn't bother to let him know she was aware of his presence.

"What does a young lady like you do here at this time of the day?" he asked in a charming but threatening voice, and Marinette had to suppress a smile at how badly he did it. She knew she should send him away, or go back to her room before he tries something that gets him ended up on the asphalt beneath them, but she was bored, and he seemed like a very entertaining person.

Instead, she answered just tonelessly enough for it to be challenging, but innocently enough to make him question it.

"Stargazing."

The man - more like a boy - stopped just a step behind her back, unsure how to proceed. Then he let out a resigned sigh and sat down next to her, far enough to not be in stabbing range -  smart decision.

"No, seriously, it's past midnight and you're sitting on a roof, eighteen stories from the ground, in  Gotham," he said, swinging his legs over the edge of the building and looking at her with genuine concern.

Marinette finally looked at him and recognized him almost immediately. He was wearing a black hoodie and a ski mask, with jeans and dark boots.

"Oh, you're the Dark Nomad, right?" She's read about him on the plane, just like she checked out and memorized every hero and villain in Gotham. There were a few.

The Dark Nomad was one of the small, relatively harmless ones. His mother worked in the Asylum - they didn't know who she was exactly, just that she worked there -, he didn't actually do much except for exiguous vandalism, but it was enough to get him on the " List of Gotham's Villains (updated every week) " published by the city's very own newspaper, the  Gotham Gazette .

"The one and only," he saluted awkwardly.

"Then you're pretty good with psychology, right?"

He seemed a little taken back by the question.

"Yes, I mean... I guess."

Marinette turned to him with her whole body, sitting cross-legged, looking like someone who is looking forward to a great conversation. This was so much better than she thought.

"What do you think about the phenomenon where the people with higher-than-average IQ have lower-than-average EQ, but if someone has lower-than-average IQ, they most likely have average or lower-than-average EQ?"

Dark Nomad just stared at her for a moment but then decided to roll with it. It really was a good topic.

"Well, it's interesting because... it's not like you have a maximum of quotient points, and you've to live with what you have. It depends on a lot of things, and we still don't even  know  what half of those things are."

"Exactly! It could mean you need a high IQ to be able to understand and feel emotions healthily, but it's not always necessary, plus the trope of the genius robot-person is way too overused in media. That's not how smart people think!"

"Yeah, and in some cases, the low EQ could be the consequence of loneliness and isolation from a young age because of the differences in one's and the environment's thinking," Dark Nomad said, gesticulating widely.

"And by the way, EQ is pretty hard to express with numbers. If you give a test to someone, they might know what the appropriate responses to a situation are, but they might never actually... do them in practice."

Dark Nomad nodded.

"Have you read Daniel Goleman's books about emotional intelligence? It's pretty dope."

"Not yet, but I'm planning on it."

"By the way... I'm Jeremy," said the boy, sitting closer to her and reaching out for a handshake.

"Marinette," she told him with a genuine smile, accepting his hand.

________________

Comments and coffee are my life-juice, so please, share your thoughts. I'm sorry for any possible mistakes and feel free to point them out. 

Her heart wasn't beating. She didn't know how she noticed but once it was there her thoughts started flashing crazy fast, she couldn't follow them, she tried to blink to clear her mind but her eyes weren't real. She knew her organs were just an illusion too but she tried to breathe nevertheless. Instantly, some kind of maniacal happiness drilled its way into her skull (it hurt). After all, there was no air to breathe in, right? Silly.

She realized time stopped working and she heard herself laugh regardless of not having a physical body. Something was melting. "Reality," she thought cheerfully, reaching for the dense liquid, its color not similar to anything she ever saw. It felt like silk and oil and cream, smelled of expensive cosmetics and herbs and death.

"Beautiful."

***

On a Tuesday afternoon, with the Sun shining and the birds chirping on the trees, a normal person would never have thought that the city was home to some of the most ruthless criminals on the planet.

For the untrained eye, Gotham looked just like any other concrete-jungle; a little sad, a little shady, a little bit mean sometimes, but otherwise safe. However, Marinette saw the wordless ways of communication between the residents, the way mothers glanced into every alley before turning around the corner, the teenagers walking in large groups to be safer.

If you were a young girl in Gotham and weren't either a complete idiot or in possession of the strength of a hundred Bruce Lees, you didn't go walking around alone. Not to the post office, not to school, not to get Nutella at two AM (no matter how sad that was).

These rules got stricter the deeper Marinette dived into the city. It was fascinating how in only so many minutes, the business and relative safety of the Wayne Tower disappeared as if it was never there to begin with. 

Crime Alley was the darkest, most dangerous part of Gotham, the cream of the cream, one could say, as long as the cream was brown like dry blood and rotten to its very core. It wasn't always like that, but time tends to bring the worst out of everything. 

Marinette was halfway to St. Anthony Street when she heard a weak voice.

"Okay, just... please, don't hurt us."

"I said give me your wallet!" said a slightly louder voice. 

Marinette leaned against the wall and glanced around the corner carefully. A man almost twice her size was standing with his back turned to her, holding a gun to another man's chest, who shielded a little boy with his body.

The smaller man put his wallet in the mugger's outstretched hand. The bastard put it in his back pocket then eyed the man's shaking posture, looking for something else to steal.

"Now, your watch." The little boy whimpered as his father reached to take his watch off. Marinette moved quickly and silently, the way an animal moves in the final moments before killing its prey. By the time someone could notice her, she was standing behind the mountain of a man, her hand already hitting the painful point on his nape, just under his skull. 

The mugger yelped and started falling forward but Marinette was already there, hitting the gun out of his hand before he could accidentally pull the trigger, yanking him back by his arm, away from the father and son. She rubbed the pressure point inside his bicep as she stepped in front of him, making sure his arm wasn't strong enough to grab her, then took a well-controlled breath and let it out while swinging her arm and hitting his nose from the bottom, knocking him out completely. She made sure not to let go of his arm until he was on the ground, she didn't want him to break his skull when he landed on the concrete.

Once they were all safe and sound (some less than others), she wiped her hands in her light blue jeans and looked at the shaken up family. The father was staring at her blankly but the boy looked genuinely scared. Of her. She took a step backward, thinking about apologies and explanations. 

Why did she do this? She could've had waited until the man let them go and confronted him farther away. She should've taken his gun sooner and hit his ribs instead of his nose. That would've been less frightening to see, right? God, she was an idiot. 

The father's grateful voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Thank-... thank you. You saved our lives." The little boy stepped out from behind his dad and nodded sheepishly.

Marinette took a shaky breath and realized the mugger's gun was still on the pavement. How could she forget that? She quickly picked it up, checked it with practiced movements (akumas weren't the only thing in Paris), and made sure the safety is on before giving it to the father.

"Do you know how to handle a gun?" she asked mostly for the sake of formality. She was pretty sure people in Gotham were prepared enough when it came to guns. She made sure to mask her accent, it wasn't that hard to find a french girl in this city, and she had to be careful.

"Yes, I do."

There was a small pause.

"Umm..." she shifted awkwardly, "could you not tell the police I was here?"

That wasn't enough. She knew it. She had to give him something that could justify lying to the cops.

"I'm here with my class, and I think I wasn't supposed to wander this far... I just don't want to get into bigger trouble, I'm sorry."

The man nodded, holding her gaze; a vow of silence holier than any oath made in curt. It came from gratitude and kindness.

She quickly said her goodbyes and took off just as the man dialed the police. She sure-as-hell didn't have enough time to visit the crime scene now.

***

When she got back to the meeting point, thirty minutes before the time they agreed on, she realized her mistake: she didn't have a pair. It was too late. She was forced to go sit with Mrs. Bustier and the stressed-out tour guide, then the teacher insisted that she sat next to her on the bus the way back to their hotel.

By the time she managed to get her off her back, it was already time for dinner and she was seriously considering to kill herself with a fork.

When she climbed up to the roof, Jeremy was already there.

"Hi. What's up? You look like shit," he greeted her.

"Thanks, it must be the jacket."

"You know what I mean."

"I mean, is it more like dog poop or goose poop? Because you see, I was going for the first one, but now I'm concerned-"

"Okay, I get it, I'm sorry!" he said, interrupting her before she could enjoy the situation any longer. She grinned at him in response.

"What's up with the Eskimo-gear?" he asked, gesturing at the red scarf and gloves she was wearing.

"Bold words coming from a guy in a ski mask."

"It's not a ski mask, okay?"

"Yes, it is."

"But it's cool."

"It's cheap."

"Ohh, shut up Miss Give-Me-All-The-Blankets-Or-I'm-Gonna-Freeze-Right-Here-And-It'll-Be-Your-Problem!"

"That was one time!

"We've only known each other for a day, one is plenty enough!"

She stuck out her tongue and sat down next to him.

"What's that?" she asked, noticing something in his hand.

"This? Well, yesterday we talked about child-psychology and stuff and there is this guy, Tamás Vekerdy, who is pretty good, so I thought I could show it to you."

"Okay, just let me get the blankets," she said, standing up.

"Bring extras this time!" he shouted after her.

"Bring your IQ this time!" she shouted back.

________________

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